


Why He Plays

by SebasuchansKitten



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 13:19:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5667505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SebasuchansKitten/pseuds/SebasuchansKitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A whimsical and poetic short tale of a mysterious, talented young man and his caretaker who longs to hear his musical talents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why He Plays

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written anything like this before.  
> It probably sucks.  
> But enjoy it anyway.

Far away, in a well known city,

Where gentlemen were noble and ladies were pretty,

A winter storm had settled overhead,

Around the time people retired to bed.

 

Very few noises shattered the silent retreat,

Including those of hooves clicking on cobblestone streets.

They guided a carriage toward a noble's home,

Where a man's fate would be unknown.

 

At last the carriage stopped with a screech,

And the steeds whinnied through the bits in their teeth.

The carriage door opened, the horses quieted upon command,

And out stepped said man.

 

A luxurious top hat rested atop his crown,

And his warm eyes glittered a sanguine brown,

His inky strands were speckled with white,

As snow continued to fall from the sky.

 

This handsome stranger was wise beyond his years,

He had impressive mannerisms and excelled his peers.

If there were a need for someone who oozed persistency,

There would be no one better than he.

 

He smoothed his wool coat as he approached the manor,

Whose frame would creak and shutters would clatter,

Besides the nuisances, it appeared elegant and grand;

He was sure only a noble could acquire such land.

 

He neared the door with a confident stride,

And rapped on the mahogany until his knuckles turned white.

The entrance opened to reveal a man about his height,

Wearing an unnecessary monocle upon his eye.

 

His black locks were peppered with grey,

And his face was wrinkled with lines of age.

Respectfully, the gentleman removed his hat and flashed teeth that were stainless,

Saying "Good evening, Sir, I'm Mr. Michaelis."

 

The noble quickly ushered him inside,

"Mr. Michaelis, good sir, you've finally arrived!

"My wife and I have been stressing ourselves;

"No matter what, the boy can't be helped.

 

"My son, you see, has a talent that could make angels tame,

"He's a virtuoso that could put Mozart to shame.

"The predicament is no matter what we say,

"We just can't get him to play.

 

"His stubbornness needs to be broken A-S-A-P,

"For his skillful fingers are worth a great deal of money.

"We've hired 27 different caretakers, and all they've done is harm,

"So we're hoping you'll be the charm."

 

At once, Mr. Michaelis sought out this son,

Though he hadn't expected the boy to be so young.

He also discovered the boy was a mute;

Supposedly he hadn't uttered a word since two.

 

The boy, Ciel, had motives that were hard to follow;

His parents claimed him smart, though his head seemed hollow.

His sapphire orbs were always so blank,

And due to this, Michaelis' heart sank.

 

Weeks passed, and no progress was seen,

The piano remained dusty, with cobwebs between the keys.

Michaelis bent over backward to make the boy gay,

But no matter what, he wouldn't play.

 

The housemaid would notice his growing frustration,

And one day she chimed in with words of adoration:

"Don't underestimate the boy who's a wonder to us all,

"His heart is enormous, though his stature is small.

"None of us know how to make his fingers sing,

"But when they do, they create magical things."

 

More days passed, and the lad never changed,

Though his father was quickly boiling with impatient rage,

Michaelis begged to be given more time in their heated debate,

But he said "You were as useless as the others; get off my estate."

 

That evening when Michaelis was set to leave,

He gave Ciel an unexpected hug, his voice low with grief:

"Goodbye, Ciel, I can honestly say,

"That I haven't an idea what makes you play,

"And though I never got to hear your fingers sing,

"I know in my heart you are capable of great things."

 

Then Michaelis was off, and he didn't turn back,

For fear of his heart developing a crack,

Although Ciel still seemed emotionless and without pain,

Michaelis felt a connection to the boy he couldn't explain.

 

Far away, in a notorious city,

Where the gentlemen are dishonest and ladies not so pretty,

There is a boy with tears on his cheeks,

Whose fingers are resting upon dusty keys.

 

Every night, a haunting tune slices through the air,

Filled with longing, heartbreak and despair,

To this day, no one knows why he plays,

But he knows his music is words he never could say.

 


End file.
